Where The Lines Meet
by Black Casanova
Summary: The small things in life made Genesis' life bearable. Sephiroth/Genesis. Smut. Yaoi. AU. Samurai-centric


The second part to "A Fish In The Sea" continuing my odd samurai AU. There will be a third part released some time in the next few weeks so, keep an eye out!  
Contains somewhat explicit man/man content. Of the Sephiroth/Genesis kind.

Disclaimer - Characters are not mine.

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Purpose**

Where The Lines Meet

_Sephiroth/Genesis_

The small things made Genesis' life bearable, he had decided. Every other General of every other Daimyo in the country did not receive all the little luxuries he was gifted with. And all because he had calmly lain on his back, without a question or complaint when his new lord invaded his tent late one night when at war with a neighbouring province.

Genesis smirked, raising his hand up to his neck, bringing a palmful of water up with it and letting it trickle slowly down his chest. He must have been one of very few – if not the only – samurai in the empire to have his own personal onsen. Content, he laid back against the warm rocks that lined the steaming, fragrant pool. Closing his eyes, he stretched out every tired muscle in his body.

He had been counting each moment since Sephiroth left by the rhythmic beat of the hollow bamboo tube as it filled with water and fell and rose only to fall once more across the courtyard from where he lay submerged and bored.

Genesis spent most of his life thoroughly bored. Sephiroth rarely allowed him off this little island – his cage – lest he flew away and deserted; fled into the arms of another.

Sighing, Genesis turned onto his front. He wrapped his arms around the rock that had been supporting his back for what had seemed an interminable period of time. Azure eyes languorously watched the bamboo feature thrive and enjoy its monotonous existence, never ceasing to produce that loud clunk as it met with the granite beneath it; greeting it as warmly as it always had and always would.

Vision started to darken, slowly. Colours became less and less prominent; the sounds of the birds, the trees and water and the scents increased, soothing and calm. Always the same. Genesis yawned and extended his long, tired legs. When he flexed out his toes, he could just reach the other side of the pool, but let them sink back down once more, resting his feet on a completely submerged bench fashioned out of rock. There was nothing to do but wait and fester.

Most likely when Sephiroth returned he would demand why that travesty of a kimono was still sitting snugly smug on its frame, untouched by his soft flesh. It would anger the daimyo, Genesis knew. So be it. Without his daisho, Genesis wasn't a samurai – he did not have to follow orders. As nothing but a lover he had a liberty to decide upon what request to fulfil first. A liberty he was all too keen to utilize.

Halfway into a peaceful slumber, the first in a long while that featured neither blood nor a memory of war, Genesis scarcely heard the telltale whisper of wood that warned of the imminent arrival of the daimyo. He was too tired to tense or raise his head or do anything in the way of a greeting – something he was sure Sephiroth was expecting. Genesis wouldn't be surprised if Sephiroth wanted him to run up and rub against his leg like some obedient, friendly feline. Genesis once submitted to the man willingly, but he would never humiliate himself, especially not when it concerned the daimyo. Although, Sephiroth was usually more than eager to make the redhead unwilling to leave this island even if he could. How could he face a regular life now, after what Sephiroth pushed upon him?

Nonetheless, Genesis was not complaining of the destiny he'd unwittingly caught himself up in. He didn't have to deal with imbeciles and lowlifes, day after day; waste time trying to teach ashigaru some form of order and discipline. What he did get, however, was the peace and quiet he needed for both his poetry and relaxation.

Regular beats of bare feet upon the nure'en had ceased for a moment. Genesis heard the smirk; felt the gaze raking and admiring him like a fine cut of meat, or a spectacular garment, or a well-kempt garden… Genesis could list all the things that he thought Sephiroth viewed him as, as there were so many other things to be possessed in the world.

With a slight sigh, weary muscles protesting just from the thought, Genesis turned over in the warm water and greeted the daimyo with a tired smile. His long red hair hung damp in his eyes, but his vision was still clear enough, even with the steam, to see Sephiroth's eyes glimmer. Genesis glanced to his right, hardly able to see the red mark that graced his neck from Sephiroth's teeth. Replacing a grimace with a sickly sweet beam, he lay back against the stone and waited for the silver haired man's next move.

Sephiroth instantly went to removing his clothes, first his daisho, leaving them safely on the nure'en; then hakama, stepping out of them only to shrug off both kimono. Exposed, pale and flawless, Sephiroth slipped comfortably into the cloudy water with his lover. Then he just sat there, on the opposite submerged seat, staring straight into Genesis' bright blue eyes.

Genesis was reluctant to do what was expected – to play the devoted, loving little mistress – when all he had once agreed to was the role of a lover. Making and serving tea was obviously one of Sephiroth's secret desires that had to be slipped in retrospectively.

Raising his right hand out of the water to brush his fringe back out of his line of sight, Genesis pushed himself across the distance between them, straight into the gap created by Sephiroth's spread legs. He rested his head against the daimyo's shoulder, hands planted firmly on hot ashen flesh.

"You haven't touched the kimono." Sephiroth wrapped his arms snugly around Genesis' torso. His voice wasn't as cold or demanding as Genesis would have expected it. Evidently the 'official matters', whatever they be for Genesis never got the chance to partake in them, went rather well. Perhaps there was the promise of a period of peace that often left the daimyo very content and Genesis incredibly exhausted. Born and raised a misogynist, Genesis never would have believed that the role of women in his society was so demanding. Then, as a child, he had had no idea of what path lay before him. Sephiroth had taught his wild spirit a lot of respect.

At least Sephiroth's light mood made things that little more bearable. Affection was something rarely seen both in armour and out of it. And Genesis had learnt over the years to savour each moment. Humiliating it was, and irritate and infuriate him it most certainly did, but to anger Sephiroth brought Genesis another step closer to finding himself in the centre of a courtyard surrounded by his comrades with just his sword before him. And the promise of a slow and painful death.

Genesis tilted his head, nibbling hungrily at Sephiroth's collarbone. "What's the point of such a decadent thing when you have no obi to compliment it?"

Sephiroth laughed. It was a deep sound, as endearing as it was terrifying at times; a low purr that made Genesis' throat vibrate in a strangely pleasant way. The samurai wet his lips and transferred his position to straddle Sephiroth's hips upon the guidance of the daimyo's insistent hands. "If you could, you'd bleed the province dry for your own pleasure, wouldn't you?"

"But I'd do it through you," Genesis smiled almost inanely. He shivered slightly as Sephiroth's hands slipped down from his hips to around his buttocks and squeezed firmly. "It is your duty, as my self-proclaimed _dana, _to cater to my every need."

Another burst of Sephiroth's controlled laughter reverberated throughout Genesis's body. "And will my little _Geisha_ perform his duties this afternoon?"

Without further retort, Genesis reached over to the small bamboo tray that Sephiroth had brought with him from the main room of the summerhouse and gently poured out clear, warmed sake first for Sephiroth, then himself. The skill came from watching the many painted young women who worked and were invited to various residences and when he and a few fellow samurai went out for a night (Sephiroth permitting – an uncommon occurrence).

He knew how even the positioning of the pottery and the composure of the wrist and hands made the act a lot harder than an ordinary man anticipated. Usually, the acquired skill was something Sephiroth greatly enjoyed watching, and he liked to see it done accurately, but now he didn't seem to mind Genesis working with only one hand.

The redhead lowered the bottle of sake back down to the tray, picked up the little red dish and held it out towards Sephiroth. One arm loosened around him; the silver haired man took the drink from him and downed it quickly. Genesis took more time, keeping his eyes open and focused on Sephiroth at all times. Smirking, Sephiroth placed his dish back on dry land and leant Genesis back on his legs. The new position brought an aesthetic curve to the redhead's back; each muscle of his chest and stomach tensed so captivatingly.

Genesis lowered the terracotta from his lips and rested his head back on his shoulders. "And what further duties does my dana wish for me to fulfil?"

Sephiroth leant forwards with a smile, tracing the vein that pronounced itself against the otherwise smooth golden skin of the redhead's neck. No verbal reply was given though, for the fingers that slipped cosily between Genesis' buttocks served as a request as well as an order all too clearly.

Genesis gasped, turning his head to the left, capturing Sephiroth's ear in his lips. He chewed with a smile as a single finger probed at his entrance. He relaxed back into Sephiroth's arms, rolling his hips backwards. Sephiroth smirked. The tips of two fingers ventured inside Genesis' body, still as tight as Sephiroth remembered it to be the night before the campaign into the neighbouring province officially began.

Genesis groaned loudly as hot water seeped inside him, causing an almost painfully pleasing sensation that felt that it burnt as much as it soothed; nails scraped his passage on every repetitive penetration. Those two fingers parted, stretching him slowly and evenly. Sephiroth's patience had always annoyed Genesis, how even in the instances when the last thing the redhead was interested in was sex, and yet was faced with nothing but, the languorous pace dictated by Sephiroth would make him thirst for more and more until the daimyo received exactly what he desired.

The pair of them both had marks to flaunt of their relationship. Genesis' bruises and bites that marred his neck and chest were in plain view for all those who dared to look when he was allowed off the island; Sephiroth, with multiple set of 10 small crescents and teeth marks etched into his back and shoulders. Such a twisted obsession always left scars on both sides. Affection took its toll, by no means lighter than that of bitterness.

Resting back against the granite once more, Sephiroth watched Genesis' expression intently; how his brow furrowed every time his jaw fell slack and he released another little sound into the air. Suddenly the songbirds lost their appeal. They continued regardless, as if trying to rival the redhead in beauty. Pointlessly.

Genesis' hands found their usual place upon the daimyo's shoulders, grasping tightly and tighter on each brush of fingertips against his prostate. Soft, whimsical and musical moans darkened into harsh consonant sounds and Genesis used his hands as leverage to move himself at a faster pace upon Sephiroth's fingers. Any other day, Sephiroth would push him down, hold him still and make him wait, dominating him in his desperation because it was so easy. But not now.

This afternoon, Sephiroth sat and watched, green eyes hawkish in the intensity of their stare. He was entranced with how Genesis kept up a perpetual rhythm, impaling himself upon long pale fingers with a practised ease. Sephiroth couldn't help but think – and fantasise – that maybe Genesis practised such an act in solitude, in those hours between visits. Smirking, Sephiroth deluded himself in thinking the redhead did.

With a final sharp intake of breath, Genesis tensed and released, slowing the pace down to a standstill as he ran out of energy. Muscles hot and tired, he fell comfortably forwards into Sephiroth's consuming embrace.

"Always the one to put on such a captivating performance," Sephiroth muttered quietly into Genesis' wet hair with a smile.

The redhead purred his response, nestling contently into Sephiroth's hair and sighing. In moments like this, strangely, Genesis didn't feel in any way degraded or humiliated; rather, he felt equal to the daimyo. Or maybe it was that at this time, they had abandoned all titles and duties on the other side of the bridge to the island and were simply two men, sharing company and skin without shame.

Sephiroth's fingers slipped cleanly out of Genesis' body, earning that customary whimper of loss. Smirking, Sephiroth flexed out those two fingers, regaining circulation from the vice-tight grip they had been caught in the middle of only moments previously.

Lightly pushing Genesis back by the shoulders, the silver haired man planted a series of ephemeral kisses to the lips before him, although Genesis was too somnolent to play along. Disappointed but not entirely defeated, Sephiroth trailed his hands down the leisurely, delicate curves of the redheaded samurai's body to grip his hips and gently lift him upwards, aided significantly by the water that surrounded their nakedness.

Flexing his fingers and digging his sharp nails into Sephiroth's back, Genesis groaned without any restraint as Sephiroth pushed inside him, inch by successive inch. The redhead's knees spread further; Sephiroth's motions were made much easier and he met with less resistance than what could've been expected.

Tilting his head back, Sephiroth regarded Genesis – the slack jaw, reddened lips and smouldering azure eyes, and leant forwards to capture his mouth in a searching kiss as he came down to his level, wholly filled.

"Nh, Sephiroth," Genesis gasped lowly, pulling away from the daimyo's lips, giving just an inch to breathe between them. His eyes were near closed; only thin blue slits were visible through long, dark lashes.

"Yes, Genesis?" Sephiroth asked calmly. He observed apathetically as Genesis tried to find the question upon his tongue, but could only produce short murmurs whilst his hips were undulating at a casual rate. Not movement enough. "You wish for more?" To this, Genesis nodded; strands of fiery cinnamon hair clung to his forehead and obscured his eyes even more. "You wish for me to move, for you are too… tired?"

Genesis' motions were weak, slow and slowing, his mind sated but body craving more, as it always did. Even the grip of his fingers was loosening. Sephiroth gifted him little more than a pitying smirk for a moment. Then his hands grasped tighter to the redhead's slim hips, raising him a little and bringing him back down almost immediately.

Genesis' response was loud, a laugh as much as it was a moan, weary and drained. With a smile, he rested his head upon Sephiroth's shoulder, eyes closed as the heat consumed him thoroughly, soaking deep into him from the outside. One sense restricted, the others increased. The feeling of Sephiroth's nails in his skin grew less painful and more powerful; lips on his shoulder and the cock inside him, brushing against his prostate intermittently, devoured what little was left of his sanity.

Another unhindered cry of the daimyo's name and Genesis came, clinging tightly to the other man as all the sensations rendered him incapable of anything but following the movements dictated to him.

Sephiroth's orgasm was marked by an intake of breath, long and low, and was only released when the very last of his body's spasms had passed and Genesis had milked him for all his worth. The technique stopped him from making such noises as those his lover made shamelessly, though it wasn't because he disapproved.

The redhead fell heavy onto Sephiroth's chest when the daimyo let go of him, raising his hips enough so that he could shift on the man's lap and curl contentedly against him. Genesis sighed and Sephiroth tied his arms around him.

"Have I earned myself an obi now?"

Sephiroth laughed. "Hardly. You have no idea how much they cost, do you?"

Genesis shook his head and kissed him impishly. A light brush of lips and nothing more. "Only appearance matters to one such as myself."

"But I never said that I hadn't bought one, did I?" Sephiroth replied and pushed Genesis off him. He stood, reaching back for his nagajuban, which he slung over his shoulders.

Genesis watched, stunned. The voice in the back of his head did nothing but warn and question; why was Sephiroth expending so much money on him all at once? Yes, he had won the campaign and efficiently disposed of one nasty thorn in the daimyo's side, but it was nothing Angeal couldn't do with as much skill and ease.

-

Genesis stared at the reflection of himself in the long, polished metal that was propped up against the wall. Painted and adorned with jade and silks, he hardly recognised himself. Red hair tied up, held in place with combs and sticks that trailed white blossoms down to his ears; eyes bright and blue and utterly confused, against stark white of his cheeks. Although he had been decorated like this once before, it had never been to this degree.

He turned back to Sephiroth, whose eyes were narrow, green and appreciative. Perhaps for his own good eye. The colours of both the kimono and the obi – a deep blue, so dark it was near black with an intricate, abstract pattern intertwined in the weave – contrasted with the ashen and radiant beauty of his lover.

"Why?" was Genesis' simple, one worded question. It was all that was needed; all that he wanted to know.

Sephiroth grinned, reaching out in an offer for an accompanying hand. "The shogun is dying, a disease of the blood, they say, and I have been chosen to succeed him." His voice remained as low and as unaffected as ever, which was a little as a surprise to Genesis as anything could be. "And you, my love, will be joining me in the capital, as my lover, as my consort and my sanctuary in the hectic world."


End file.
